Reconstructing Sarah
by lizinfected
Summary: I wrote this story for username Ms. ST, in celebration of her 18th birthday. It involves some of her favorite people- they should be familiar to you. We’re all mad here, after all.


If there was a contest you could enter for "The Most Awful Birthday in the History of Birthdays" Sarah would have bet her life on winning it. A year out of college and she was already back with her parents. _Chase your dreams,_ all the storybooks and sentimental media said. But it seemed her dreams had done most of the chasing- chasing her away with bared teeth and dripping maws. Sarah went to bed that night defeated and depressed. Three days in her childhood home and already it felt as if the life was being sucked out of her, all the creativity and sense of adventure. She mourned the passing of another pathetic year.

It was eleven minutes after eleven o'clock when the knock sounded on Sarah's bedroom door. She burrowed deeper into her blankets, not in the mood for a lecture from one of her parents. But the knock came again, more insistent this time. She knew by now her mother or father would have simply just walked in. And speaking of which, why would they be bothering her in the middle of the night? Sarah stood up hesitantly and waded through a splash of moonlight on the floor, opened the door a small crack.

"You're here! You've finally arrived!"

Everything was dark. The glowing night sky, streetlights from outside- extinguished. Sarah stumbled and tried to catch herself on the doorframe, but it was gone, and instead she fell into wiry arms; she felt soft velvet, smelled cherries, vanilla, and something slightly bitter. Hands grasped her shoulders in a vice-like grip and propelled her forward.

"Really darling, you should work on your punctuality. We've been waiting _hours._"

The voice was right in her ear, reedy and obnoxiously loud. Something seemed familiar about it, which was strange- Sarah had never heard it before in her life.

"Now…"

The anonymous man spun her around and pushed her backwards into a comfortable armchair. With a crack the bright white of a spotlight struck Sarah, blinding her for a few moments. When the moisture in her eyes cleared and they could once again open comfortably, she swiveled her head and…

"AH!"

"HA!"

They yelled in unison. He was perched on the arm of her chair, screaming in glee. She was taken aback by the close proximity of his wild eyes and rounded nose. He fell over backwards, did a somersault, and landed on his haunches, the tails of his coat billowing. Sarah's eyes widened at the sight- smart shoes, immaculate vest, a dainty handkerchief tucked in his pocket and crazy ginger hair escaping in wisps from under a jauntily placed top hat. She gasped and leaned forward, her wide smile mirroring that of the Mad Hatter's.

"You knew! You knew it was birthday!"

Hatter's eyes twinkled and he bowed.

"Perhaps it was you who knew it was not mine?"

Sarah shrugged. "I didn't really know either way. After all," she pointed out, "you came to me."

"Did I?" Hatter stood up and folded his arms, leaned forward and raised one red eyebrow impossibly high.

"Did I really?"

Before Sarah could answer, Hatter spun her chair around and began to push it out of the spotlight and through the darkness. She held on tightly and listened to Hatter sing all the while.

"_There once was a girl made of stone_

_She lived in her home all alone_

_Never had much to say_

_Each day was the same day_

_The same day the same day_

_Until the clocks come alive_

_And the girl couldn't hide_

_The chimes! The chimes!_

_The stars were numbers_

_And the numbers were stars and the _

_Milky Way is where we can play!_

_The girl who was made of stone!"_

Sarah's ride ended with the song. She wanted to applaud, but suddenly had a very odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. Before she could ponder this, another spotlight hit, and Sarah realized she was sitting at the head of a long table, covered in a pink cloth and dotted with tea pots and little cups. All the chairs were cloaked in darkness except for the Hatter's, which was empty. He instead was perched on the table, sipping something red with his pinkie out.

"Thirsty, dear?"

"Well yes, but…I don't really like tea."

Hatter unfolded one leg from its former crossed position and grasped a pot with his toes, nonchalantly pouring Sarah a cupful.

"Thank you!"

She sipped at the Kool-Aid. It was cold and just the right amount of sweet.

"Soooo…"

Hatter dropped onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Aren't you curious?"

Despite the strange events that had so far occurred, Sarah had not been pondering why things were happening the way they were. But now…

"Curious?"

Hatter reached out and wound a finger around one of Sarah's curls.

"About your other guests! It _is _your party!"

Sarah wondered if Paige or Elizabeth had also been pulled from their beds as Hatter jumped up, cupped his hands around his thin lips and yelled, his voice projecting surprisingly loud.

"Aaaaaaaaaand now, allow me to present these dashing, dapper, devilish gents! The most calculating and cunning crew you could conceive….YOOOOUUURRRR GUESTS!"

Sarah new she hadn't invited anyone, and this description certainly didn't fit any of her friends.

Four spotlights hit four empty seats.

"Oh dear."

Hatter crossed his arms and tapped a nail thoughtfully against his large front teeth. With a heavy sigh, he said, "THIS is what happens. I leave for ten minutes…TEN MINUTES!"

His voice steadily grew louder, its pitch becoming increasingly higher.

"INCOMPITENCE! DISORDER!"

Hatter's stomping feet violently shook the table, rattling china and threatening to overturn all of the refreshments.

"Oh…um…oh…"

Sarah tugged at the leg of his trousers. He paused for a moment, and then his angry screams turned to agonized wails.

"OHHHH, SARAH!"

Hatter dropped to his stomach and sobbed, beating his fists on the table.

"No one wants to help! No one understands! No one CATES! They don't CARE Sarah… they…don't…CAAAREE!"

Sarah hesitantly patted his shoulder.

"Er. It'll be alright."

"That fool will never be alright."

A shock coursed through Sarah's body at the sound of that dark, derisive voice. She recognized the flyaway grey and white hair, the glinting blade…

"Swe…Mr….Todd!" Sarah nearly screeched.

Sweeney nodded in her direction and hunched into his seat. "Something to drink," he commanded, never moving his eyes from the straight razor in his hand.

"Yes! Of course!"

Sarah struggled around the wailing Hatter and fumbled with a pot and cup. Curious? She was now. This whole situation was turning into an out of body type experience.

"Here you go, Mr. T."

The gloomy barber grunted in response. Sarah sat down awkwardly and continued to sip her Kool-Aid, wondering who would show up next to this warped "party", and trying hard not to consider things like reality and clinical madness.

"Lost your teddy bear again, Toddykins?"

Sarah's head jerked up from its pensive position. A lithe figure in purple and green sauntered into the light and threw himself onto a chair. Sarah's jaw dropped, and she spilled her drink.

The Joker propped his crossed, pinstriped-legs onto the table and lit a cigar.

"Hows about a drink, toots?"

Sarah nodded dumbly and hurried to bring him a cup. She looked down and realized that her hands were trembling, causing the Kool-Aid to slide up and down like blood on white kitchen tile.

"Thanks pumpkin," the Joker said with a wink. Sarah blushed and unsuccessfully tried to stifle a giggle. She turned around and jumped- Hatter's nose was pressed to her's.

"And what are you doing, my wee little dolly doll?"

"I was…"

"Sit! Sit!"

Hatter ushered her back to her chair, bowing exuberantly to the grinning Joker and brooding Sweeney. When Sarah was once again seated comfortably, Hatter placed his hands on his hips and glared.

"This is painfully boring!"

"Wanna hear a…funny story?" The Joker leered.

"That is QUITE unnecessary! I couldn't be less concerned with the counter at Mac, and anyway, your 'stories' generally end with a reenactment that leaves my cravat charred! _Where_ is the runt?"

"Maybe Monster Boy ate him!" The Joker threw his head back and laughed. The cigar bobbed dangerously between his lips.

"The…runt?" Sarah ventured. The men at the table ignored her.

"Oh my oh my- WHO INVITED THEM?" Hatter did a nervous little two step, like he was standing on hot coals.

"Edward Hyde does not need an invitation."

Sarah's eyes widened at the gravely rasp that came from a hunched and cloaked figure. A flop of dark hair fell over the narrow eyes that burned from within the shadows created by his top hat. With a derisive sniff Hatter eyed this and adjusted his own in a way that let you know just who's was superior.

"Upbeat as ever, Mr. Todd?" Hyde dropped into a chair next to the barber.

"Shouldn't you be slaughtering stray dogs and young children?"

"Shouldn't you be playing peek-a-boo with your wife? Oh, wait…"

Sweeney pushed his chair back violently and bared his teeth. Sarah couldn't tell which was more dangerous looking- the glint of his eyes or of his razor. She backed nervously into her chair while Hatter beat his hand on the table.

"Gentlemen, really!"

"Where's your cane, Hyde? Sweeney said it was up…"

Hatter screeched loudly over the Joker's guffaws.

"GENTLEMEN!"

"This scum…

"…dog faced…"

"…pick on someone your own…"

"…sewer rat…"

"Pathetic excuse for a-"

"Oh, sorry!"

A short blonde man had stumbled into the fray unnoticed, tripped over his own feet, and was now standing uncomfortably between the two livid Englishmen. Much to his obvious terror, they turned their attentions to him.

"Well look who it is! Mr. Sing a Song With Me," Hatter intoned snootily.

"Mark," the man corrected helpfully. He sat in the only available chair- next to the Joker.

"Are you a fan of games, Mr. Cohen?"

The Joker smiled his pumpkin grin and blew a ring of smoke into Mark's face. He began to cough.

"Sure…like Monopoly?"

"Exactly like Monopoly!" The Joker barked out, laughing enthusiastically and thumping Mark on the back. His blue eye's met Sarah's, and he waved.

"Happy birthday."

"Th-"

She was cut off by Hatter jumping onto the table again.

"Cake time! Caaaake time!" He hopped up and down and lifted his hat. Sitting on his head was a round cake, messily painted with blue icing. Hatter set it before Sarah with a flourish.

"Fire, anyone?"

"Oho! I'd be happy to oblige!"

The Joker tittered gleefully, pulled a match from behind his ear, and a playing card from his sleeve. He stuck the match and pressed the flickering orange flame to the card. Sarah though it looked angry.

"Make a wish."

The burning card stuck fast in the cake. The following silence was thick, intense- it raised the hair on the back of her neck and speckled goosebumps over her bare arms. Sarah's guests were all staring at her silently, with varying expressions on their mad faces. She all of a sudden realized how very _wrong _all of this felt. A wish? Sarah's eyes met Mark's. He seemed as uncomfortable as her, but still managed to smile reassuringly. Sarah knew what she wanted.

Before she could blow out the candle, Hatter extinguished it with a pinch of his fingers.

"Bravo! Oh, Bravo! Sweeney?"

The barber reached across the table and cut the cake with four quick swipes.

"Take one, pass it down! Take on, pass it down!" Hatter sang this repeatedly until Hyde's cane collided loudly with his stomach.

"Shut it, you nat."

Hatter rubbed his belly and winced. He shot Hyde an admonishing glance.

"So uptight, Eddie. Was that necessary? It's as if you were raised by cavemen! This is a party of _class._ Now, have a piece of cake and calm your nerves."

Hyde grudgingly complied, but continued to shoot Hatter furtive glares as he shoveled cake into his mouth. Sarah followed suit and took a small bite. It rich and chocolately; she quickly finished the slice and started on a second.

Sweeney was staring moodily at his cake, scraping off clumps of icing with his razor and slowly licking it. A large plod hit his cheek. Sweeney glared up at the Joker, who was smiling innocently.

"I hope you choke on a chocolate chip, you twat," he growled. The Joker tisked.

"What language! And at such a snazzy shindig, too."

"This is really delicious cake!" Mark interjected, beaming at Sarah over his fork. She grinned back widely. No one besides him had really noticed her for quite some time, which was considerably depressing. She was about to switch seats and get closer to Mark when his easy smile changed to a look of shock and pain. His appealing red lips turned a worrying shade of blue, and he began to gasp desperately for air. Before Sarah could jump from her seat and try to help, a little gurgle escaped Mark's mouth, and he collapsed.

"Oh my god! Mark!"

Sarah tried to get up, but all of a sudden her limbs felt incredibly heavy. She weakly raised a hand, but it was like moving through syrup. The chaotic party had turned silent. Everyone was frozen- Hatter sitting on Hyde's shoulders, trying to choke him while simultaneously dodging the man's flailing cane, and Sweeney halfway across the table, slicing the air in front of the Joker's face while the trickster gleefully pelted him with cake and silverware. After a few miserable seconds, Hyde's deep laughter slowly began to seep into the room. The Joker and Hatter quickly joined, falling onto the floor in their raucous amusement. Even Sweeney cracked a small sardonic, malicious grin.

Sarah was choked by her horror. She could hardly make her mouth form words. It took her a minute to realize she actually _couldn't_- her throat was so dry that it would only allow a pitiful squeak.

"Which…did…"

Hatter pulled himself back onto the table and clapped his hands in delight. "Oh, does it really matter? My pet, he simply had no place here!"

Did she?

The Joker brushed his shoulders off and made himself comfortable once again, reclining casually in the armchair. With a cackle, he asked, "Present time, Hattie?"

"Preseeeeent time!" Hatter repeated, squealing with delight. He snapped his fingers and a golden rope lowered toward him from somewhere in the darkness above. Hatter had to hop a bit to reach, but finally he grasped the mysterious rope and pulled.

With a sound like the grand piano falling from an apartment window to the sidewalk in an old cartoon, four wardrobes landed beside the table.

"Let's see what's behind door number one!" The Joker gestured grandly to the first wardrobe. Sarah stood up on wobbling legs. It felt like forever, but she finally reached the door. She opened it slowly, and immediately reeled backwards. A woman was inside, with an adorable button nose and waterfalls of curling hair. She was shoved in at an awkward angle, and a rabbit trap was imbedded in her neck, coated with dried blood.

"Option one," Hatter whispered.

Wanting to cry but seemingly no longer in possession of basic human instincts, Sarah mechanically opened the second wardrobe door. The stench of burned flesh was awful, the woman's outstretched hands terrifying, and her charred lace dress pitiful.

"Option two," Sweeney murmured monotonously.

Behind the third door- a jester's spandex suit, ripped and dirty. The blonde woman's pigtailed hair was tangled in a coat hanger, and her face was covered in bruises.

"Option three." The Joker quietly chuckled.

The fourth- a brothel dancer with her skull bashed in.

"Option four," Hyde rasped.

Sarah dropped her gaze to the floor and noticed a video camera, cracked and dusty. Her eyes moved to the corpse still lying on the table. She began to shudder, her chest aching.

Hatter patted Sarah's arm. "Take your time, darling."

"You have all the time you need," the Joker added happily.

"All the time in the world," Sweeney and Hyde said in unison.

Sarah didn't know if she sat on the floor or had simply lost all strength, but in a second her head was level with the table. She stared at her hands, mind surprisingly blank. The horror was making her numb.

And then she heard it- a soft cough, barely a wheeze. Sarah looked up in alarm, but her guests had begun a game of cards. The Joker had passed around cigars, and they were chatting amiably.

"She screamed like a cat…

"You should have smelled the smoke!"

"I slipped in the blood and ruined my best suit!"

Sarah shuddered, and bit her lip. The coughing sound continued, in little quiet bursts. It seemed to be coming from under the table. Finally happy that she was being ignored, Sarah gently lifted the table cloth.

A man was lying there, gagged and bound with rope. One cheek was bruised, and his dark curls were matted to his face in sweat and blood. What had obviously once been muscle was now thin- the man had obviously been there for some time. His bearded face had a hallow look about it, and his breathing was shallow.

Their eyes met, and Sarah suddenly had the sensation that they'd known each other a very long time. It was an overwhelming feeling, terrifying and delicious all at the same time. The visual of a burning card came to mind. She shook that image away, pressed a finger to her lips and crawled under the table, quickly untying the rope on his wrists and ankles, and the cloth in his mouth.

"Is there a way out?"

Sarah pressed her lips close to his ear to whisper this, and his silky hair tickled her cheek. She breathed deeply and realized that under the musty reek of sweat he smelled like sawdust and blackberries.

"Just…run…" he croaked.

Sarah eyed the man's body. He was obviously weak, in no shape for a daring escape. But something inherent inside her screamed that she'd be leaving with him or not at all.

They grasped hands. His were well formed and pleasantly rough. Sarah longed, even in this dire predicament, to press one against her cheek.

The two crawled slowly from under the table and, with only one brief look of understanding, began to run.

"Foolish girl!"

"Catch her!"

"HIM!"

"CATCH HIM!

Sarah closed her eyes as she ran. The overwhelming sounds of insane screaming were threatening to drive her equally mad. But the hand grasping hers was strong, and she continued on.

How long did they run? It could have been minutes or years. Sarah's body ached- whatever was in that cake was still taking its toll. Finally, the pair collapsed on the ground. The mysterious man had, it seemed, regained much vitality. He was panting and red faced from the run, and his eyes glittered when he looked at her face.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

No other words were necessary. Sarah's eyes closed and she felt herself fall forward. Strong arms caught her, and she lost consciousness completely.

* * *

Golden sunlight burned red against Sarah's eyelids. She rolled over and burrowed deeper into her pillow. It was warm in bed, and something smooth was pressed against her bare shoulder.

Sarah opened her eyes and gasped. Spencer was next to her, his strong back almost glowing in the morning light. Brown curls were splayed messily over the pillow, and his lighter stubble was obviously starting to grow into something resembling a beard.

Spencer. His name was Spencer.

Sarah yawned and stretched lazily. The room was small and cozy, painted light green and overflowing with books- some of which were hers. Spencer's acoustic guitar was lying next to a paper plate sprinkled with the remaining crumbs of birthday cake, and the dripped wax from a toppled candle. Sarah turned her gaze eagerly back to the man beside her. He slept with one hand under his cheek, like a child. This smooshed his face in a comical and endearing way, and Sarah giggled. She touched the freckle on his nose, the curve of his full lips. With a satisfied little sigh Spencer shifted, caught Sarah's hand in his. He kissed it lightly and opened his eyes. They were green as new grass and framed by eyelashes thicker than her own.

"Job interview today?" he slurred sleepily.

Yes! Sarah suddenly remembered that his was true. She nodded.

"Good birthday?" The last word turned into a yawn, and Spencer smacked his lips together, grimacing at the morning-breathe taste. Sarah laughed, and tickled under his arm. Spencer writhed.

"Ah! Not this early!"

Sarah took mercy on him and leaned in close, their noses touching.

"Yes. The best birthday I've ever had."


End file.
